


Full of Grace

by piginapoketuesday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: D/s, Dom!Crowley, Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot, Sub!Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginapoketuesday/pseuds/piginapoketuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel can't forget Crowley's gentleness in restoring his supply of Grace. He goes to the King in the hope of starting a purely sexual relationship. Will Castiel be able to stand submitting to Crowley?</p>
<p>Spoilers for Soul Survivor 10x3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley lifted the angel’s bloody face to the vial. Castiel shook his head vehemently.

“Yes, it’s hers. But she was killing your girlfriend. There’s no blood on your hands.”

Cas looked at the swirling grace in Crowley’s fingers and considered it for a moment. He wanted to live. He wanted to go on from this moment so badly. Save Dean. Save Sam. Save Hannah. Could he take it?

“Much as it pains me to say this, you’re no use to me dead.” Crowley’s thumb popped the top of the vial, and the Grace slithered out to Castiel’s lips. It filled his mouth and entered his veins, healing him immediately as Crowley stepped back.

Castiel’s entire vessel glowed bright white. He was restored.

Standing, Cas looked at Crowley with both disgust and gratitude. He looked at Hannah, with her throat carved barbarically, and felt a bit less guilty about the new life inside of him.

“Why did you help me?” he demanded of Crowley.

The King reminded him how close they were to reaching Sam; how vital it was to help Dean, if they could. If they couldn’t . . .

“I’m not sentimental,” Crowley said, with a devil-may-care smile.

“Liar,” Castiel thought, following the dark suit with his eyes as it disappeared into nothingness.

***

“Sire, we have . . .”

“Yes? Spit it out already.”

“We have the angel Castiel for you, your Majesty.”

Crowley perked up. “What on earth do you mean, you “have” Castiel? I didn’t order—”

“He showed up at the gates, my King. Asking for you.”

Castiel, asking for him? Odd . . . “Bring him in, then.”

Two guards forced the angel into the room, one with her hands clenched around his bound wrists, and one with an angel blade poised at his throat. He was gagged, a silver band taught against his lips.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You idiots. Release him.”

The demons looked confused. “But, Sire . . .”

“Are you daft? Do I have to do everything myself?” He snapped his fingers, and the henchdemons dissolved in smoke. The blade clanged on the ground. Castiel’s mouth and wrists were instantly freed.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, straightening his coat.

“Don’t mention it. Just the second time I’ve saved your skin this week. So what’s eating you, darling?”

Castiel swallowed. “Do you think, perhaps, we could speak somewhere . . . private?”

Crowley snorted. “Always so demanding, you lot. Do this, do that; can’t I get any respect around here?”

“What I have to say, I believe, will please you,” Cas offered.

The King shrugged. “Fine.” He twisted his hand in empty air, and the scene changed. Suddenly, both men were alone in an empty hallway.

“Better?”

“Crowley, I don’t know how to—“

The demon caught the flush creeping up his companion’s neck, the hands that clenched and unclenched, the unfocused eyes . . . 

“You’re titillated by me, aren’t you, angel?”

Cas looked up into his eyes, terrified. “I—“

“You liked it when I touched you. When I fed you that poor angel’s Grace. You enjoyed being at my mercy.”

The younger man swallowed. “How did you—“

“I know a submissive when I see one, Castiel. Look at you, shaking in my presence. You came here at knifepoint just to be fucked into oblivion by a demon. Is that correct?”

“I didn’t—“

“But of course, you want me to be gentle with you. Is that it? You’re hot under the collar at the thought that my torturing hands were tender with your body. Have I arrived at the point, here, Castiel? Or should I go on?”

“Alright,” he breathed, “Yes. I have developed a bit of an infatuation.”

“Is that so? And what, pray tell, would you like me to do about that?” He walked around Castiel, surveying him.

Cas followed the wandering eyes. “I don’t know what I want. You’re the one who . . . Well. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Tell you? Let me tell you what I would do with you. I’d strip your vessel bare. Touch you so intimately you’d feel poisoned for weeks. Bite that delicious throat of yours. Revel in your moans and your desperate writhing. I would cup your prick in my fingers, tease you raw and make you beg me for release.”

Castiel’s face burned with embarrassment as Crowley circled closer and closer to him, until the demon’s lips were right behind his ear. This was a bad idea, he thought. Even so, his cock hardened visibly in his trousers.

“I’d have you, Castiel, naked and pleading in my lap, tortured and left to weep as I withdrew my own cock and fucked you. And then, when I’ve gotten my fill, I’d have you bursting in my mouth, brought to shuddering vulnerability by a devil. I would pull and suck at your oversensitive prick until I tasted every drop of arousal your body had to offer. And I would not stop with one night, my dear, gentle, angel. I’d have a hundred nights. A thousand. Our eternities would consist of nights in my bed. But you are no slave, Castiel. No. Certainly not mine.”

Cas nearly lost his composure right then. “No,” he agreed, “But I want you. I want to be in your hands, sucking on your neck. I want to be touched by you. I need it, Crowley. Please. I need you.”

“Submission is not a game, Castiel. I would own your body.”

“No. I maintain control. I get a safe word. I have the right to say no.”

Crowley smiled. “I’m aware of the rules. I’m not entirely sadistic, you know. And in return for your consent?”

“You own my body. You can . . . play with me. I will . . . I will do as you wish, within reason.”

“Does this turn you on, love?”

Cas shivered, his erection almost painful. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

For a moment, Cas was confused. Then he understood. He looked up dutifully into the King’s eyes.

“Yes, Master.”


	2. Chapter 2

"When do we begin?"

Crowley smirked. "You're worried about that hard on, hmm?" Castiel shifted uncomfortably. "No need to be shy, love. I'll be well acquainted with your body soon enough. I like the way those trousers look on you, bulging. May I?" Crowley moved closer and let his hand hover near the angel's crotch.

Castiel nodded nervously.

Crowley began to inspect the protrusion gently, cupping it and kneading it. He followed the line of Castiel's cock with his finger. Cas whined a bit.

"Aroused? You poor soul. The training I'm going to have to put you through . . ." He sighed. "But the fun I'll have with you. Mmm. I'm weak at the knees just thinking about it."

"Can I take off my pants now?"

Crowley laughed. "What? You thought I was going to fuck you, right here, right now? I have a job, you know. Responsibilities. No. You will wait. One week. If you touch yourself, I will know, and you will be punished for disobeying me. Is that understood?"

Cas almost denied his new master, but he didn't want to mess this up. He nodded. "Yes, my King. What happens after a week?"

"I will call you to my bed, and I will taste that sweet body of yours. Does that sound good?"

Castiel nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"

"Good. Leave me."

***

"You've been good."

"Yes. I waited."

Crowley stood from the bed and walked to his new pet. "And now, I suppose, you want me to touch you?"

"Yes. Please."

"Look at you, begging already. Like a good little submissive. Are you nervous, Castiel?"

"I--"

"I don't need an explanation. Yes or no." The demon loosened his tie, letting the silk slip between his fingers as he pulled the fabric from his collar. He moved around Castiel and caressed the angel's cheek with the end of the tie, moving gently down his neck. "Do I make you nervous?"

Castiel stood frozen as the dark silk was pressed to his throat. "Yes," he whispered.

"Why?" Crowley asked nonchalantly, tossing the tie to one side and slipping his fingers under the collar of the trench coat. He pulled and the coat withdrew from it's owner's shoulders, arms, and wrists.

"I ... I don't know what you have in mind."

The King smiled a bit, tugging off the suit jacket from his partner's back and depositing it neatly on the rug. "So chaste, Castiel. Use your words."

Fingers deftly unknotted his own tie, pressing softly against the hollow of his throat. "I don't know what you will do ... to my body."

"Go on." Crowley's hands trailed the length of the white shirt, opening flesh to the air as he went.

"How you will touch me." His button-up was removed.

"How would you like me to touch you?" His trousers were unzipped and unclasped.

"Like ..." Castiel could barely breathe. The atmosphere in the room was warm on his bare skin as Crowley pulled his pants down off his waist.

"Come now, angel, you must have a request?"

"I ... I don't know ..." He stepped out of his shoes and trousers, his boxer shorts taught against his growing cock.

"You don't know." The disappointment in Crowley's voice was thick. He grasped the young angel's arm and brought the bare wrist to his mouth. Slowly, he placed kisses along the veins until he reached the open palm, which he teased once with his tongue. "You don't know how you want to be touched. How, then, Castiel, do you expect me to touch you?"

He twined his fingers through the shaking hand and brought his mouth up to taste the curve of Castiel's throat.

"Please," Cas whimpered. "Please touch me however you wish."

The cruel tongue licked at his jugular. "My pet has much to learn."

Castiel nearly moaned. "Teach me."

"My pleasure."


	3. Chapter 3

"You might have noticed," Crowley said, withdrawing, "That you are nearly naked, and I have only removed my tie."

"I have noticed, yes, sir."

"Why is that, do you think?"

Cas swallowed. "I don't know."

"Take a guess."

He glanced at Crowley nervously. "I--you want me vulnerable. You don't want me to see you naked, because then I might mistake this for a partnership . . ."

"Very good, Castiel. Perhaps you're not the prude I took you for. And do you feel vulnerable?"

"I am more powerful than you."

Crowley laughed. In an instant, he was back at Castiel's side, and he slowly groped the boner between the angel's legs, grasping his penis through the cotton undershorts and sliding his fingers along the length.

"Do you feel vulnerable now, Castiel?"

"You--you are only touching me. I could still--"

Crowley snapped his fingers. Suddenly, Cas found himself against the bedpost, hands tied behind his back, immobilized by a rope around his throat that connected to the post. Both binds were clearly warded against angels, as he felt his powers all but disappear. In this odd position, his pelvis was thrust slightly outward, making an even greater show of his arousal.

"And now, love? Do you feel vulnerable now?"

Cas felt a chill of both fear and excitement run through him. "Yes, my King."

"Mmm. That body needs attention."

Cas was forced to remain still as the demon King ran his hands over his torso and legs. As fingers explored his mouth and groped his ass. His nipples were tweaked and tongued. His neck was kissed everywhere the rope didn't restrict. The fabric of Crowley's trousers, hardened, rubbed hotly against his erection, and he found himself grinding up against the body that hovered over him.

"You haven't gagged me," Castiel observed.

Crowley paused, "And?"

"You must want a taste. You keep saying how sweet I am."

The demon gripped Castiel's chin. "My little minx has desires after all."

The kiss was no more fervent than Crowley's teasing had been. He began by sucking Castiel's bottom lip, then explored his mouth slowly, enjoying his toy's desperate breaths. Sweet was not the word for the angel. He tasted like champagne. Clear, crisp, powerful and delicate all at once. Against Crowley's dark, smokey bourbon, it was bracing. Delicious. Crowley, admittedly, would have devoured him. But the tease was a far worse torture.

Drunk, Castiel moaned, "You're the King of Hell. I came here to be fucked, not swathed in--"

"Is this not to your liking?" Crowley said. There was no question in his tone. He stepped away.

"It's just--"

"You wanted my attentions, yes? What exactly is the problem?"

Castiel was made entirely aware of his position once more. The rope bit into the flesh of his neck. "You--just--I want it rough!"

The smile that crossed Crowley's face would have made Lucifer himself swallow in fear.

"What did I tell you, Castiel, about your body?"

The angel froze. "I can choose. I can say no. But . . ."

"But what?"

"You . . . own me."

"Exactly. And there, Castiel, is your choice. I won't force you to bear my touch any longer. Say the word and you're free."

"But--"

"But what? But you're terribly aroused? But you wanted so much more from this deal? But you expected me to immediately tear you a new one; you, who are so pliant, and tender, and begging for my teeth? Do you not understand that this is part of the torment; that until I have you dripping in my hands, you are not wholly mine? Think, Castiel. Make your choice."

His heart beat thudded in his throat. But there was no choice. Not when he had a chance to get those teeth eventually. And though frustrating, he missed his Master's touch. 

"Alright. Have your way with me."

"So commanding, Castiel."

He closed his eyes. "I am yours, Sir."


	4. Chapter 4

“Now, darling, you know just as well as I do that you aren’t fully exposed to me.”

Castiel’s eyes flew open. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Cas. You haven’t the slightest clue how much pleasure I could—“

“No. Not my wings. You don’t get to touch my wings.”

Crowley shrugged, attempting to hide his disappointment. “Fine. Might I ask why?”

Cas flushed deeply. “They’re . . . they’re broken. Bent. Pieces are missing. So many feathers aren’t mine—just stolen—ripped off the backs of other angels. They’re a patchwork nightmare. And they’re sore, bloody—I can’t have you—”

“Alright. Hush. I won’t hurt you, Castiel. Not really, anyway.” He returned to his bound toy and brushed his thumb over the angel’s Adam’s apple. “I like you this way. Powerless under my touch. Splayed for my hands.” He slipped two fingers into Castiel’s mouth. “Suck.”

The younger man obeyed, tasting the fingers, pulling his lips against the thick knuckles. Just the pleasure of having something to do with his mouth heightened his arousal.

“Good boy.” Slowly, Crowley began to fondle the bulge in his lover’s shorts. He took his time, feeling every inch through the cotton, grasping the heavy balls and distressing the sensitive head.

Soft moans vibrated around his fingers. He leaned forward and sucked a nipple into his mouth, teasing it until the bud burst into life. Gently, lips still at Castiel’s chest, he slipped his hand below the waistband of the boxers.

Castiel groaned in pleasure when he felt thick fingers enclose his member. Gagged by the digits against his tongue, he could not beg for more. He was forced to bear the slow stroke and the pressure as Crowley squeezed his length. Pre-cum was spread from his slit to coat him for the wank.

“Torture, isn’t it? Just enough pleasure to keep you needing more, but never enough to send you over the edge.”

Cas whined, sucking the fingers and thrusting his pelvis further outward.

“How badly does my poor angel want me to make him cum?”

Desperate sounds issued from his submissive’s mouth. He teased Castiel’s tongue with his fingers, forcing him to gag.

“Let’s get rid of these, shall we?” He pulled the underwear from Castiel’s waist and resumed his assault on his captive’s prick.

“Mmhpphh!” Castiel writhed in his grip.

“You want me to go slower?”

The angel shook his head violently, rubbing his throat raw on the rope that bound him.

“Ah, faster, then?” Crowley smirked, his own erection swelling deliciously in his trousers.

Cas nodded as if his life depended on it, and when the friction increased, he threw his head back against the bedpost.

Crowley squeezed his member without mercy. He toyed with the full balls and kept a steady rhythm of quick, rough strokes that ended in a polishing of the weeping cock head. “My pet is close, yes?” He withdrew his fingers, wet and swollen, from the angel’s mouth.

“Yes,” Castiel whimpered.

With a final stroke, Crowley stepped away. Cas bucked his hips upward, searching for the friction that had gone. He flailed wildly, trying to find relief, but none came.

“No!” he cried, “No, let me cum! Please, Master, please!”

“Not tonight, Castiel.”

His cock was so needy, bobbing in the air, begging to be touched. “Please!”

Crowley turned away. “You will stay here until you go soft. I will return, then, and take you to my bed. You’ve done well, love. You deserve some tenderness. Perhaps tomorrow I will give you release.”

With that, he dissolved into smoke, and was gone.

***

Locked in his room, Crowley worked his cock like a madman, his head thrown back against silk pillows, throat exposed to his own hand, which was cutting off his supply of air. He envisioned Castiel, dripping and pleading with his cock untouched, and he gasped as he went over the edge.

Spent, he healed the bruises on his own neck and cleaned away the proof of his orgasm. He could hardly wait to have his new toy curled up against his bare chest, hoping that tomorrow would bring the best orgasm of his long life.


	5. Chapter 5

Crowley loosened the bindings that restrained Castiel with his own hands, taking care to touch him tenderly, healing the rope burns at his wrists and throat. He wiped the wetness from the angel’s eyes, well aware of the frustration that had caused his pet real pain. Gently, he pushed the sweaty hair out of Castiel’s face.

“Forgive me. The first day is always difficult.”

Castiel didn’t speak. He simply swallowed as the King snapped his fingers, and suddenly, he was clean. No sweat. No precum. No trace of his ordeal. His skin was softer, even, underneath dark pajamas he had never seen before.

“I thought you might want to sleep in something more comfortable than that overcoat.”

“I don’t sleep.”

Crowley smiled, “Love, I can sap your power here with rope and a few words of Enochian. You really believe I don’t have the ability to let you sleep?”

“Fine.”

“So bitter. Would you rather nap on the floor here?”

Castiel paused. “No.”

“Good. Come and crawl under the covers with me.”

Immediately, they were in Crowley’s room. It was dark, and the bed was an enormous expanse of black, purple, red, and gold pillows and blankets in all sizes, stacked and draped on a mattress large enough for thirty people.

Castiel almost laughed. “Orgies?”

Crowley nodded. “Orgies. Come. Everything is clean.”

They crawled to the center of the oversized bed, sinking into soft sheets and memory foam. Crowley’s suit transformed into silk shorts, leaving his chest bare. He lay down and pulled a blanket over himself.

“Lie down next to me.”

Castiel obeyed, feeling awkward. The sexual tension from their previous encounter was difficult to ignore, especially in his depraved state.

“Please, Castiel, humor me. I won’t bite. I’m not filthy. I won’t grope you. You’ve heard of aftercare, yes?”  
He shook his head.

“You entered into an S&M relationship, believing I’d torture fuck you, and what, leave you to hang in the ropes? Send you away, beaten and unsatisfied?”

Cas simply blinked. That was exactly what he’d expected.

“That isn’t how this works. I should have clarified earlier. For every mark I leave on you, I must make up for it with softness. For every bit of pain I cause you, I must offer pleasure. I’m not here to be your warden. I’m not here to whip you bloody and walk away. I touched you intimately, and you begged me for release, and I did not grant it. There is no trust in that. The trust comes now. Trust that tonight will be good, and tomorrow will be better.”

Castiel’s entire being filled with relief. Maybe he hadn’t gotten in over his head. Maybe the King of Hell had a tender side. Maybe.

He lie down and curled his body into Crowley’s chest. “The trust comes now,” he repeated.

“Yes,” Crowley answered, and he smiled, thinking of the immense and fragile creature in his bed; how he had done so well, and would only continue to learn.


	6. Chapter 6

When Castiel woke the next morning, Crowley was gone. A note lay in the empty space next to him.

“Since angels don’t eat, I trust you will join me in my throne room once you wake? Your clothes are beside the bed, but I ask that you come nude. All My Best, the King.”

Castiel felt a touch of arousal at his Master’s request. Not only would he spend his morning under Crowley’s ministrations, but also, he would have to walk the corridors of Hell without any cloak of modesty, bare for every wandering demon eye. This was a thrill he had not even considered.

He was not wrong. On his walk to Crowley’s throne, dozens of demons leered at him, commenting on what they’d do to him if he were not their King’s possession. They touched themselves, staring lewdly at his crotch and ass, moaning theatrically in the hopes of adding to his discomfort. But not one of them attempted to grope him. They did not even touch his back or face. They were under strict orders: the angel must be left alone.

When he arrived at the center of the burning metropolis, the doors opened to him. As he entered, he saw Crowley on his throne, reading a scroll and nursing a glass of bourbon.

Crowley did not even look up. “Lovely invention, sleep. Humans are lucky to come by it naturally.”

“Yes,” he said.

“They kept their hands to themselves, yes?”

“Very much so.”

“Good.” Now Crowley looked up. He swallowed and smoothed his dress shirt. Lithe, young, and gleaming with renewed strength; Castiel was nothing short of a marvel. Eye candy, as it were.

“Lucky me, getting a taste of you.”

Cas blushed at the intense gaze, his cock rising a bit from its nest of curls.

“Come here to me.”

Slowly, his stomach turning in anticipation, Castiel stepped toward the throne.

“Quickly, love.” Immediately, Castiel felt a cold chain slither across his naked throat. He panicked, but continued to walk, as the collar extended in mid air and its end links drifted gently into Crowley’s open palm. A slight tug from the demon brought the leash taught against his neck. He sped up, ascending the few steps to the ornate chair: to his Master.

“Lie in my lap, Castiel, face up. I want you fully exposed to me.”

When he hesitated, Crowley wrapped the chain around his fist, tightening his hold, calling him forward. Awkwardly, he crawled onto the King’s lap and sprawled himself out. Cushioned platforms sprouted from both arms of the chair to support his head and legs.

“Mmm. Good. Now, I want you to touch yourself, Castiel.”

Utterly vulnerable, his face burned with the embarrassment that even the idea of pleasuring himself on Crowley’s clothed body brought. The chain was pulled until his breathing became shallow. He had to comply or back out of the arrangement.

He reached for his cock. Wrapping his hand around the base, he stroked himself with curiosity. He’d never done this before. Not once. He touched the uncircumcised head to test its sensitivity. With his other hand, he cupped his balls, rubbing them rhythmically with his stroke.

“My pet has never pleasured himself, has he?” Crowley asked, “Not even to photos of Dean Winchester? Not once in all your millennia?”

Cas shook his head, ashamed, as he continued to pump himself.

“That changes things. I was going to interfere, but now I want you to bring yourself to completion. I want you to cum for me, writhing against me, by your own hand.”

Just his Master’s words were enough to elicit a moan. “Explore yourself. That’s it. Lubricate your delicious cock with precum.”

Castiel obeyed, his strokes faster now that he was not dry, and he closed his eyes to listen to the voice coaxing him through . . .

“Pull and press, love. Yes. Manipulate the skin on your head. Fondle the ridge. Good. Faster!” Crowley felt Castiel’s bare ass squirming against his hardening flesh. It was unbearably hot.

Castiel felt his breaths coming in short gasps, his neck corded and constricted by the chain, which Crowley tugged periodically, relishing in the flex of his submissive’s gorgeous throat.

“Crowley—I—“

“Cum for me, Castiel. Now! Cum for me!”

His hand pulled and twisted on his swollen prick, and he burst, spurting hot jets of cum onto Crowley’s jacket and his own legs and stomach. Castiel’s muscles all relaxed at once.

“That’s my angel,” Crowley said gently, touching a finger to the tip of Castiel’s dripping cock, then sucking lightly on that finger. “You’ve done well.”


	7. Chapter 7

“You . . . you must want release, also,” Castiel panted, climbing down from Crowley’s lap.

His master smirked. “Something tells me you’re craving a look at my cock.”

Cas flushed, but he tried to maintain some courage. What was there to be embarrassed about? He’d just masturbated himself to completion on top of the King of Hell.

“Yes.”

Crowley tilted his head to the side. What was this? His chaste and nervous little angel showing some initiative?

“And what would you do with my cock, hmm? You’ve only just pleasured yourself. You’re rather unpracticed, wouldn’t you say?”

Castiel bristled. “You told me . . . I was good . . .”

The demon smirked and yanked the choke chain, forcing Castiel to his knees. “Yes, my naïve pet. You did a fair job jerking yourself off. But now, you think you’ve earned a shot at my pleasure? Think again, love.”

He touched his neck tenderly, feeling betrayed by the chain that had only increased his delight moments earlier. This was another taste of true submission. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

“How . . . how do I please you, then, Sir?”

Crowley knelt and uncoiled the chain from his submissive’s throat. Slowly, he ran his hand through Castiel’s thick hair, pulling his head back.

“Practice, angel.”

Castiel swallowed. “On whose cock?”

“No one’s. At least, not yet. No. Today, you will use your hands and mouth to arouse me without touching my more . . . private bits.”

A thrill went through his body. He would get to see Crowley at least partially nude. He would get to touch and tongue his master. Even so, he couldn’t imagine what might be pleasurable for this violent soul.

“You understand, of course, that I will still be in control here. You do not have permission to touch my cock, balls, or arse hole. I will return your kisses, coach you a bit, but really, I want to see what you can do. Make me ache for you, Castiel.”  
He nodded slightly.

“Good. You’re free to begin.”

The two of them stood. Castiel surveyed his master, imagining his skin bared and eyes closed in elation. Inspired, he moved behind Crowley.

Casually, he pulled the suit jacket from the demon’s broad shoulders, moving to nibble on the flesh below the earlobe as he deposited the garment on the floor. Crowley felt himself stir in his trousers. Perhaps his angel was braver than he’d realized.

Fingers loosened his tie as lips moved below his chin. Castiel tasted the warm flesh through Crowley’s thick stubble. He pulled and nibbled at the skin, drawing bruises to the surface. He reached around his master’s torso and unbuttoned his shirt, trailing his fingers over the now-bare chest and stomach. He removed the shirt and tie.

With his master’s wrists exposed, Castiel took the tie and bound Crowley lightly, all the while placing fervent attention on his neck.

“Hey, I never said you could—”

“Hush. You know better than me how easily you could break out of this. Let me do as I please.”

Intrigued and enjoying the slow rise of his cock, Crowley let him continue.

Castiel moved then to stand in front of Crowley. He reached out to touch his partner’s chest. As he explored with one hand, the other rolled a nipple between thumb and forefinger, occasionally twisting. He stepped closer, allowing his new erection to press lewdly against the bulging black pants.

“I very much want to touch you,” Crowley admitted, licking his lips.

“That is a shame,” Castiel responded, nuzzling against the King’s collarbone.

“You still haven’t removed my trousers. Afraid of the beast?” He smirked, but the feel of his submissive’s lips creeping up toward his throat softened his expression immediately.

Castiel let his fingers toy with the waistband of the cloth that separated their aching pricks. “You are aroused by my patience.”

This new and much bolder creature that had risen out of his favorite little tree topper made him more frustrated below the belt than any wanton demon ever had. Sure, the monsters in his charge knew how to turn up the heat, as it were: make him beg, leave stripes of blood across his back and naughty bits, torment him so elegantly that he came in ribbons when it all rose to a pleasurable crescendo.

But this. This awkward yet fervent tongue drawing figure-8’s below his trachea; these warm hands so unsure but still dancing on his flesh; this gorgeous member pulsing mere millimeters from his own . . . it was torture and pleasure of the highest degree.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled, head tilted back just slightly to allow access to the gentle tongue. “My sweet little toy . . . pleasing your master so well . . .”

Carefully, Castiel unzipped the trousers and pulled them down to Crowley’s ankles. The King stepped gratefully out of them. The bulge in his boxers was generous, twitching in the hope of gaining a turn with the angel’s mouth.

Cas slipped down his master’s body and settled on his knees. Breathing heavily so as to further tease his dominant, he kissed and nipped at the bare thighs, lifting the fabric to give better access to his lips.

Crowley could feel the breath snaking it’s way up the legs of his underwear and touching his poor cock. He considered breaking the thin hold of his tie, so as to fondle himself and ease some of this need coiled in his belly. But no, the angel had done so well, and it would be unfair to not at least offer some reward for his hard work.

Even so, each tender bite so near his crotch further served to wet the fabric that touched his leaking head.

Castiel could feel the heat of his King. It encouraged him further. Slowly, he edged his mouth upward, to the juncture of Crowley’s hip and thigh, to his belly where he sucked in a breath at the invasion of a tongue that sent a shock of pleasure to his groin, to his chest, to the oversensitive curve of his saliva-shiny throat, and finally, to his parted lips.

A fire whiskey kiss; bodies pressed tightly together; the itch of bound hands to touch and tousle dark hair. Crowley moaned.

And that was that. Castiel backed away, leaving his master breathing hotly and flushed with need.

“Tell me, Sir. Have I done well?”


	8. Chapter 8

The winged bastard had beaten him.

Crowley wrenched his wrists apart, shredding his tie. He waved his hand violently in the air, and Castiel was forced to his knees. He advanced on the flustered angel and gripped his chin with all the force of Hell.

“Yes, my defiant little slave. Now suck my cock, and don’t disappoint me.”

The King knew he had made exactly the right moves when he saw the flood of intense desire in Castiel’s eyes at this show of dominance. A challenge to build confidence, and an order to feed the flames of his lust. Perfect.

Castiel grabbed Crowley’s ass and pulled his crotch forward, burying his face in the pungent fabric. His King was dripping for him. He mouthed at the bulge frantically as he ripped the boxers down from the demon’s waist.

The enormous cock bobbed against his lips and cheek as he sought its glands, sucking and licking, eager to taste. His hands came up to heft the balls, to twist and fondle them. The onslaught made Crowley groan.

Castiel pulled the foreskin forward and kissed behind the sensitive head. He had no clue what he was doing, but God in Heaven, he wanted every inch of Crowley in his mouth. He wanted to taste his master’s most intimate flesh. He wanted to please a devil so keenly that he would beg and thrash and moan. His tongue violated the dripping slit in earnest.

“You beautiful—enticing creature,” Crowley said, struggling to keep his voice even. Strong hands palmed his ass and the small of his back, making it difficult to stand up straight. He tousled Castiel’s hair to preoccupy his hands, as well as to keep his balance.

Cas attempted to take the length into his mouth. He gagged immediately but forced the bile down. This was not the time. Not even the limits of his vessel could ruin this for him.

Crowley touched his angel’s throat gently, coaxing, “Take it slow, love—take—Satan alive, Castiel—”

After another minute or two of tonguing and fisting the erection, Castiel tried again, this time swallowing against his gag reflex. He got a bit further, but he had to withdraw or risk vomiting.

“Cas, you don’t have to—” He could sense his partner was struggling, but the sensations . . . the feel of a throat convulsing around the head of his cock . . .

Cas moaned and reached for his own member, desperate to cum. The vibrations were elegant torture for Crowley, but he managed a final reprimand.  
“No. You do not have—fuck!—permission to touch yourself!”

Grudgingly, he dropped his hand and returned to groping the demon’s ass, feeling for his hole and teasing the opening.

“How—how can you be this—shit! Cas, I’m going to—”

Castiel tried one more time to take his master’s length. He choked, swallowed, and choked again, but continued to push until the heaving in his stomach was too much. He pulled away as Crowley came, spurting hot rivulets of white across Castiel’s chest, neck, and face.

He held his stomach as the urge to vomit subsided, watching his master crumple to his knees and jerk himself through yet another orgasm. Cum spattered the floor and Crowley’s hand as the King gasped in the throes of pleasure.

When it seemed he could take no more of his own touch, he spared no time for recovery and nearly pounced on Castiel, grabbing for his erection with slick fingers.

Cas cried out, the King crouched over him, breathing hot and heavy and fisting his cock with unparalleled urgency. Crowley bent his head to suck bruises into his submissive’s chorded neck, dimly aware of just how ruinous this was for the poor angel. Nothing would ever be good enough for him again. Not when he’d been touched in this way. And they hadn’t even fucked yet!

“Please, please, Crowley, please!” He was panting, desperate for the friction to maintain that breakneck pace. Desperate for his master to make him cum.

Crowley silenced him with a bracing kiss, one hand working doubly hard, swirling the proof of his own pleasure with Castiel’s dribbling precum, the other hand pulling at dark brown tufts of hair to force his head back—

Their kiss was interrupted by a half moan, half scream as Cas came for the second time that day. Crowley worked him through it, slowing his speed but still milking his angel for all he was worth. He placed soft kisses on his partner’s chest, neck, and forehead, even as Castiel felt his cock become too sensitive. He began to writhe under his master’s ministrations.

“Just a bit more, love, a bit more. You can bear it.”

“Hurts—too much—Crowley, please—”

“No safe word spoken, no stopping. It will turn to pleasure, again, I swear to you.”

Slowly, the need for release built to an unbearable height in his belly, and he felt his balls tighten in preparation—

Then Crowley took him to the hilt, tonguing his length and suckling each trembling vein.

Castiel burst down his master’s throat, screaming, his back arching off the cement floor of the throne room.

The demon King swallowed and let the cock slip from his mouth with a satisfying *POP*. He watched with immense pleasure as his new lover slumped boneless and shut his eyes, breathing as if he had just finished a marathon.

“You taste like something out of Heaven,” Crowley said with a delighted smirk. He pushed sweaty hair tenderly off of Castiel’s forehead. “Like something out of Heaven.”


	9. Chapter 9

***TRIGGER WARNING: Brief mention of rape implications***

Castiel rose silently to a sitting position and waved his hand over his body. Nothing happened. He was powerless in Crowley's lair.

Crowley looked at his angel, covered in sweat and cum, and snapped his fingers. Instantly, Cas was clean.

The younger man bowed his head. Crowley couldn't help but notice the sweet curve of his nose, the smoothness of the skin where his shoulders met his neck, the careless, tousled mess that was his hair, etcetera, etcetera. What a pretty vessel.

Without warning, Castiel's wings appeared, mostly black, but with awkward tufts of green and burgundy. Dried blood clung to a few deep lacerations. Pieces were bent, resting at odd angles. They were enormous, and he used them to shield all but his face.

"You . . . your wings . . ." The King was at a loss for words.

"Shameful, aren't they. This is my price."

He felt a bit of pity for the angel. He was no stranger to wounds, and carrying around massive, tortured extremities like that must have been agony.

"You insisted those were private."

"Yes," Castiel said, "But I have no idea what you plan to do with me next, and I must tend to myself. I am not used to being so bare and feeling such pleasure. I only need a moment."

Crowley's eyes softened. "Let me tend to you."

Castiel looked up, "I can't--"

"Not sexually. Let me make you more comfortable."

He paused. "Okay."

Crowley raised his hand. "May I touch?"

Cas looked crestfallen. "Yes, master."

He shook his head. "No. I am not your master right now. I am asking simply as me."

The King of Hell, stroking his wings. What could be worse? There was a time when the thought would have made him sick, but now . . . perhaps the demon had earned some trust.

"Yes . . . Crowley."

He reached out, unsure what to expect. His fingers came into contact with rough feathers, and Cas winced.

"Does that hurt?" There was no sadistic pleasure in his voice. Only concern.

"As I have said, they are quite sore."

Crowley withdrew a bit, lightening his touch. He moved around to Castiel's back, hoping to caress from feather to bone, but he dropped his hand when he saw the wounds.

Deep, poorly repaired gashes scored the angel's spine where the wings met his flesh. It was almost as if . . . as if the appendages had been ripped off and reattached.

"What in Satan's name—"

"Disgusting, isn't it?" Castiel asked, his head lowered in shame. "Metatron, he slit my throat, stole my grace—this was the result."

As an expert in the art of pain, Crowley was in awe of the scribe's cruelty. The intimacy, the psychological abuse that complimented the physical . . . it was beautiful. At the same time, he felt a strong urge to bind the smug archangel to his table and carve archaic torture sigils into his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said, unsure of how to proceed.

"Hannah can see them, in case you were wondering. She offered to clean them. I told her they are my cross to bear."

"That is the most pigheaded thing to ever leave your lips," Crowley sneered. "Why on earth would you subject yourself to this madness? Stupid, petulant, chess pawns—"

Castiel turned, his battered wings bristling. "What I choose to do with my wounds is none of your concern."

Crowley reddened. "Didn't the Winchesters' incessant need for self-punishment teach you not to walk on fire and blame your own gravity for the blisters? Lucifer almighty, you've been in anguish for months!"

"Yes."

"Cas, this has to stop. A few simple spells and—"

"You will not touch me."

Crowley composed himself. He straightened his back, and the emotion left his face. "Get out, then. I will not torture fuck a martyr."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "You swore—"

"I may not be your master at this moment, but I will not touch you again if you do not let me heal you. Or if not me, what’s-her-face in the blazer."

He swallowed. Was Crowley right? Had he suffered enough? What would Dean and Sam think if they knew about his scars? They'd probably pray to Hannah to come fix him immediately, or hell, try to patch him up themselves.

What was he really afraid of, anyway? Yes, a touch at his back was more intimate than the frigging of his cock had been, and the blood on Crowley's hands was thick from centuries of . . .

Yet, here he was, bare in every sense, but the demon was not violating him. He was simply asking, or even begging, to heal him. Was that not worthy of consideration? Were these not the actions of a lover, or at the very least, a friend?

“Alright,” he conceded, spreading his wingspan as wide as it would stretch.

Crowley gaped at the wounds as they seemed to expand before his eyes. Those cuts . . . they weren’t random as he had thought before. Instead, they formed a very simple Enochian word. In English, it’s something close to “murderer”, but the definition is, quite literally, “thief of life”.

“You’re branded.”

“Grace was never meant to be stolen.” Castiel’s voice was something very near a sob.

Crowley struggled to keep his temper in check. He would gladly flay Metatron alive for his part as the catalyst in this tragedy, but he knew that his own hands were partially responsible. He had largely ignored the feeling that he had violated something sacred after he . . . extracted that pretty angel’s grace. Even Hannah, who’d suffered at the edge of her blade, had looked at him as if he’d set an infant on fire.

This was why. She’d been with him, watching him, knowing he was too weak to cloak his scars and also so ashamed of them. And he had spliced another tangle of bloody feathers into Castiel’s spine. It was a monstrous thing.

“I should have let you die. It would have been kinder.”

Castiel laughed. “You aren’t exactly known for your kindness.”

Crowley was silent. He produced a container out of thin air and dipped his fingers into its contents. Salve, thick and powerful.

Gently, he moved to apply the medicine to Castiel’s injuries. His angel pressed clenched knuckles to the floor.

“I imagine this would be erotic for you, if circumstances were different.”

Cas closed his eyes. “Yes. My wings—before—were very sensitive to touch.”

“They aren’t now?”

He tried to blink the wetness from his eyes. “You don’t understand. Theo and Adina . . . they’re part of me now . . .”

The King continued to stroke salve into the gashes, taking special care with the rips at his spine. “You’re saying this is an act of sexual violence against them. Rape.”

He bowed his head again, tears spilling onto his chest. “No. They can’t feel you, but I can feel them, and I can feel you. It isn’t right. It isn’t fair to the remains of them—”

His eyes softened. “Castiel, that can’t be helped now. The deed is done. But you must heal . . .”

“Do you see, now? Why I felt the need to bear this?”

Crowley finished his work and sat back to watch the slow heal of the bloody wounds. “Every war has casualties, Castiel.”

Cas felt his throat tighten. “I think . . . I think my master should show me to another bed tonight.”

The demon dropped all pretense of viciousness in favor of comforting his lover. “Alright, alright. So you’ve done terrible things. So you’ve had victims and been the victim. You’ve survived. I know, the cost is difficult, and you want to punish yourself. But those denim-wrapped nightmares still draw breath, don’t they? You have them. You saved them. They wouldn’t want to see you bleed.” He grabbed Castiel’s fist and massaged his thick fingers into the spaces between the knuckles. 

Healed, though still tender and scarred, Castiel’s wings folded tightly against his back and disappeared. He was a man once more, naked on the floor of Hell, touched by a demon.

“No, they wouldn’t.”  
“Come and put your head on my chest, love.”

Castiel didn’t move. Crowley sighed.

The King of Hell reached out and pressed his hand softly into his lover’s back, where the marks of his violation had been. “Clouds and harps.” He shook his head and closed his eyes. Castiel drew a careful breath of relief.


	10. Chapter 10

Crowley watched his lover breathe, in and out. Just breathe. Like many other things about Castiel, this simple function titillated him.

"How did I get lucky enough to have you fall into my lap? Heaven's little troublemaker. Tell me. Is your throat still tender where Metatron drew his blade?"

Castiel touched his neck self-consciously. "He healed me."

Crowley grabbed the angel's shoulder. "That doesn't answer my question."

Cas turned. "Yes. I'm a bit . . ."

The King leaned forward, so his lips were an inch from his lover's. "Sensitive?" His voice was thick with lust.

The younger man swallowed. He knew exactly where this was going.

Crowley gripped Castiel's hair and pulled his head back. His pale neck began to sweat at the proximity of the demon's mouth. Veins jumped beneath his chin.

"Tell me, darling, where the bastard cut." He gently traced his finger at the base of Castiel's neck. "Here?"

An barely perceptible shake of his submissive's head told him otherwise. He drew a line beneath the taught jaw. "Here?"

Another head shake. This time, he dragged his thumb just below Castiel's Adam's apple. Cas grunted.

"Ah, we have a winner. Tell me, does this memory cause you pain?"

"Yes," he whimpered, seeing no point in lying.

"Then let me change that to pleasure." He bent his head and placed his lips in just the spot he had pointed out. The heat of Castiel's throat sent blood rushing to his cock.

He kissed, tonguing the flesh with furious energy. A dark bruise soon bloomed at the site, but Crowley kept up his attentions.

It was immeasurably arousing to feel his old scar suckled into the hot mouth of his master. Castiel smiled briefly, thinking of Metatron rotting in his cell, while he was healed and cared for.

Crowley stopped and released Castiel's head. A deep red mark was left on his pet's skin.

"Better?"

Cas licked his lips. "Yes. Maybe . . . maybe you'll let me return the favor?"

Crowley laughed. "You want to kiss my neck like I'm some wounded warrior, is that it?"

He scowled. "I just thought that between the blood injections and the metal collar, you might want some . . ."

"Tender love and Cas?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "You don't need to be rude."

The demon smiled to himself. "Forgive me. No one's ever offered to comfort me."

"I'm sure you've bared your neck to someone before."

Crowley remembered fondly all the times he had. Sam's cure and his confinement, really, were weak torments in comparison to the delightful, consensual pain he'd received below his chin.

"Love, an angel blade carving my trachea is an average Tuesday night."

The angel blinked. "How do you endure?"

Crowley chuckled. "We are not one in the same, darling. Most of the things that make you queasy would have me moaning and spurting in a minute."

"Then why me? How can I give you an orgasm with just my body?"

The King shook his head sadly. Poor, naive little thing. "The spoiling of you and your purity; it touches me right where my bathing suit goes."

Cas felt a blush warm his neck.

"I have a grand old time making you beg like a wanton whore. Making you use that pretty mouth and those nervous hands to pleasure me. I've touched myself to thoughts of you writhing in need. You are so much better than torture."

Castiel didn't know what to say. On one hand, he was sort of disgusted and uncomfortable with being used the way Crowley had described. On the other hand, his cock had hardened in his lap at his master's confession.

"See? That erection of yours, craving my fingers. But the naughtiest thing in your mind is perhaps me denying your orgasm. That's unbearably hot."

Cas turned toward Crowley and opened his legs. "Touch me, master."


	11. Chapter 11

“Stand up.”

Castiel blinked but obliged, getting to his feet. The King followed suit and advanced on him, pressing his chest so that he was forced to move backward. They walked slowly to the wall, Crowley’s eyes cutting into Castiel’s in a way that made the angel both uncomfortable and encouraged to stare back and beat the demon at his own game.

When Cas finally felt his back muscles touch concrete, Crowley let his thick hand settle ominously over his angel’s throat. Castiel swallowed, the arousal of being entirely within his master’s control making him once again aware of his nakedness.

“Such a sweet mouth,” Crowley whispered, licking the edge of Castiel’s parted lips. “And a pretty cock.” He took his partner’s member in hand and fondled it, letting it harden slowly as his fingers played, tickling the head; shaking his length; hefting his balls.

Castiel reddened, embarrassed as his prick was toyed with, knowing that Crowley could feel the quickened beating of his heart in his throat.

“Like something out of a candy shop. I could just . . .” he moved to drag his teeth along the tender rim of Castiel’s ear. “Taste.”

Cas swallowed again, heat pooling in his groin, and immediately regretted it. Crowley’s thumb massaged his neck, highlighting that he could feel each and every movement of his muscles that gave away his joy in being dominated.

“Perhaps I should dip you in sugar, tie you down, and have my way . . . slowly . . . enjoying your sweetness . . .” His erection hardened further as the King continued to touch and tease him.

“And I would suck you, Castiel. Suck the sugar from the head of your cock, from your begging mouth, your tight arse, your quivering stomach . . .”

“Crowley,” he said, breathlessly, his jaw slack as his panted. The demon felt his name vibrate through his hand and gripped the base of his own cock to keep himself from cumming.

“Unbearably sweet, you are.” He parted his fingers and licked just above the web at the hot, trembling Adam’s apple. Castiel let his head fall back against the wall, utterly undone.

“Chocolate would do, as well,” he said against the angel’s neck, “How it would pool, warm and thick, in your sensitive hollow . . .” He lapped at the concave space above Castiel’s collarbone, moaning slightly.

“Leak inside of you . . .” he rubbed the slit in his captive’s swollen member. “And my tongue could swim in the sweetness of your chest.”

Cas groaned, not caring that his master still covered his neck. He wanted more friction. He needed to be fucked.

“Perhaps juices. Nectar running between your shoulder blades. Berries dripping—”

“Crowley,” Cas whined, “I’m begging you.”

“—on our tongues.” He grinned. “What is it pet? Are my musings too much?” He began slowly stroking just the head of his partner’s penis with three fingers.

“Can’t—bare it—please—”

Crowley smiled. “Oh, my little tree topper, you’ve no idea what sort of torment you can bare. This coming from the creature that has had his Grace ripped from his being. You can’t take a little tease?”

Cas was sweating. “You—are the cruelest—ah! Please, master, please—”

He could feel the begging tremble against his fingers. His own thickness was painful. “What do you want?”

“T—touch me m—more, please. Please, I n—need your cock!”

“Mmm, do you now?” He maneuvered their dicks together so that he could rub them both in one hand. The feel of his flesh sliding wetly against Castiel’s was so intensely erotic that he bit back a cry of pleasure, forcing himself not to cum.

“Master, please!” Cas whined, losing himself. He wanted so desperately for his King to cum inside him.

Crowley removed his hand from Castiel’s sweating throat, and he stepped away. The poor angel reached for his prick, but he snapped his fingers, and Castiel was instantly shackled to the wall. “No, please! Please!”

“Safe word, love,” Crowley reminded, and he sat slowly down in his throne, his erection bobbing obscenely between his thighs.

Castiel did not want this to end. He wanted himself brought to completion by his master, so he chewed his tongue and watched in agony as Crowley began to stroke his own cock.

The King closed his eyes and let his head lie back against the ornate chair, his hand working his dripping prick. He eased the foreskin up and down his length and let out a shuddering sound. “I . . . am imagining your mouth . . .”

Castiel writhed, desperate to be touched, the heat in his stomach roiling as he witnessed his master go over the edge. Crowley buckled and gasped, jerking himself through it, letting ropes of cum streak his throne and the floor.

When at last he was finished, he slumped backward in the chair, going limp, the rough stubble of his neck exposed and his chest heaving less violently with each breath.


	12. Chapter 12

Crowley grunted as he lifted himself from his throne. He walked slowly over to Castiel, limp cock swinging between his legs.

"Close your eyes," he ordered, gently. Castiel obeyed, and tears dripped from each of his eyelids.

Crowley felt a pang of remorse. He might have gone too far. Softly, he wiped his angel's cheeks and pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

"Love, we may stop, if you like."

"I . . . I need you . . . to touch me," he gasped, "However long I have to wait, I'll endure. Just please, Crowley. Touch me!"

"You have been patient, my dove. I beg that you wait just a bit longer." He knelt and touched the cuffs chaining his pet to the wall. They opened without pretense, and he wrapped his hands around Castiel's wrists.

The angel gasped as his raw skin was healed.

"Turn. Let me see your delicious ass."

He complied, bowing his head against the wall. Crowley brought the chains to his wrists again, but this time he felt thick fur encase his skin.

"We can't have you bleeding in too many places. At least, for the first time."

Castiel's breath hitched as his master's hands began groping his ass.

"Oh, god, Crowley--"

"Is this not what you want, pet?"

He shook his head violently, "No, no, please, god yes, Crowley, fuck me, please . . ."

He smiled and began toying gently with the angel’s hole. By some magic, his fingers were slippery and cool, and as they teased the ring of muscle at Castiel’s entrance, he felt himself begin to open willingly for the King.

“Does this please you?” he asked, kissing Castiel’s shoulder blades. A subtle redness emerged on his light flesh.

Cas moaned as he wriggled his ass closer to Crowley’s delving touch, needing to be filled.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Would you like to try to take my cock, now?”

Castiel whimpered a desperate “please” that made Crowley’s balls tighten once again. He pumped his hardening member for a moment, thinking how pretty Castiel would look tied hand and foot to the rack, gagged, bloody—

It was only a fantasy. He’d never inflict such pain on his naïve little pet. But Satan alive, it made him ache to think of the begging. Such were the breaks of earning the key to this city of sin.

He attempted to control his breathing as he set the head of his pulsing cock against Castiel’s virgin ass. Slowly, taking immense pleasure in the subtle domination, he placed one hand over his slave’s throat. Immediately, he could feel the heaving breaths, the violent heartbeat, and each tormented swallow. Flushed from ears to cock with embarrassment and need, Castiel was all his. His powerful but submissive little plaything.

He thrust forward.

Crowley felt the yelp of pain vibrate against his palm as he forced his way inside Castiel. The angel gasped, unaccustomed to the intrusion, but found his cock twitching despite the droplets of blood running down his leg.

“Forgive my haste. Let yourself adjust and enjoy me,” Crowley growled, panting. The orifice was so tight that his cock swelled in unbearable pleasure.

Carefully, Crowley began to buck in and out of Castiel’s hole, still gripping the angel’s throat.

Cas moaned, his neglected member dribbling cum onto the floor as he was fucked. The demon hit his prostate again and again, making him cry out and writhe in his chains.

Crowley wanted to whisper filthy things in his submissive’s ear, but he couldn’t find his tongue amidst his own moans and gulps. With his free hand, he reached around Castiel and felt between the angel’s legs, finding his straining prick and gripping the base with all his strength.

“No! No, please, let me cum, please, please—”

“Not . . . yet . . .” he managed, fucking harder now, squeezing his partner’s throat until the breath became raspy and labored.

“Need—need—”

Crowley grunted, animal sounds issuing from his mouth into Castiel’s ear as his pleasure finally peaked and he spilled his hot seed into the angel’s arse.

As he orgasmed, he released his captive’s blood flow and began frigging the poor cock, his hand slick and encasing the swollen flesh like a vice, polishing the head and giving no mercy to his length.

Castiel screamed and bucked against the hand, his cum splattering the wall as Crowley’s leaked from his ass. The pleasure was so intense that he didn’t know whether to cry or burst into flames, as his master pulled another white rope from his prick. He could feel his heart beating wildly against the King’s fingers, both at his throat and between his legs.

As his climax abated, he felt Crowley slip out of his hole and lean against his back, sweaty, dripping, and gasping for air.

“This—this is why—edging—works beautifully.”

Castiel swallowed, every pore of his body screaming with the exhaustion of immense pleasure. “I—I agree—Master.”


	13. Chapter 13

**WARNING** Fear play and language about assault/torture.

“Castiel, do you have any idea how often I’ve fantasized about you, strutting about in that coat, swarming with light. How I’ve wanted to pull your collar and lick the essence of Heaven from your tongue.”

Cas blushed. “Why are all of your fantasies so invasive?”

Crowley’s eyes gleamed a dark red. “Because I want to invade you.”

The angel swallowed. “You have.”

“No, Castiel,” Crowley smiled wickedly, moving closer, his lips nudging at Castiel’s jaw. “I’d have you slit open, flayed, your vessel leaking grace from every wound, your lips parted in a scream of pain and pleasure, cock sheathed in my hand, my tongue licking at your bloody throat—”

“Stop,” Castiel said, his voice small. “That’s what you want? To torture me?”

Crowley shrugged. “I am the King of Hell.”

“Then why . . . why haven’t you done it? I’m here, powerless, naked—you could have easily—”

“Love, you weep when I deny you, though you crave it. You think I would carve into you for my own pleasure? You do not belong to Hell, nor to me, Castiel. And like I mentioned before, it makes you quiver to know my torturing hands can be gentle with you.”

Cas traced a finger over Crowley’s palm. “I want to give you pleasure, too.”

“You have.”

“I can do more. I can—”

“I know you don’t want that. Don’t offer.”

Castiel grabbed his master’s wrist. “I’m offering. Not to the extent you had in mind, but some. I heal quickly.”

Crowley looked up. “You want that? Fine. Beg me for it. In detail.”

Cas flushed, but his voice was steady. “Please, my King, cut me. My neck, chest, hands, please.”

The king maintained eye contact with his angel as he produced a straight razor out of thin air. “My submissive wants to bleed for me?”

Castiel suppressed a gulp. “Yes.”

“Hmm,” Crowley mused, watching his partner. “Where to cut first.”

The angel closed his eyes. Soon, he felt breath against his mouth, and a tongue teased at the edge of his lips.

“Where to wash this clean, unscarred flesh in blood. Ah—”

Cas gasped suddenly as his head was yanked back by his hair. The cool metal of the razor against his bare throat made him shiver.

“Look at you, so willing. I never thought I’d get a blade at your jugular, Castiel. I certainly never imagined you’d offer me your throat.” He sighed, released the dark brown hair, and folded the razor, hiding the blade from the skin he had never intended to mark.

Castiel opened his eyes. “Why aren’t you—”

“You think I’d actually cut you? No. You were wincing at the thought. This,” he waved the razor gently, “Is called a hard limit, love. Never offer to bear something you find unbearable, simply for a dominant’s pleasure. I have my fantasies, yes. But I’d never want to see you suffering in that way; not when you can’t enjoy it as I can.”

The younger man swallowed. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Never let anyone coerce you into taking your body. Not even the torture king himself.” He smiled. “Now, kiss me.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Feathers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661941) by [eithermore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eithermore/pseuds/eithermore)




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